But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. –Philippians 3.13-14

During an extremely stressful time in my life and ministry, I discovered some old files I’d saved for future sermons. I must have done some research into Jonathan Edwards because my notes included a list of resolutions he had written as a teenager. Here’s what I’d written:

Between ages 19 and 20, Edwards wrote down seventy resolutions which he read every week for the rest of his life. The preface and the first of Edwards’ resolutions reveal him to be a very serious man from his youth:

“Being sensible that I am unable to do anything without God’s help, I do humbly ask Him by his grace to enable me to keep these Resolutions, so far as they are agreeable to His will, for Christ’s sake.”

“Resolved, that I will do whatever I think to be best for God’s glory, and my own good, profit and pleasure, in the whole of my lifetime, without any consideration of the time.

“Resolved that I will do this, whatever difficulties I meet with no matter how many and how great.”

Inspired by Edwards and given my circumstances at the time, I composed my own list of resolutions. I borrowed the preface from Edwards and wrote down the following resolutions:

“Being sensible that I am unable to do anything without God’s help, I do humbly ask him by his grace to enable me to keep these Resolutions, so far as they are agreeable to his will, for Christ’s sake.”

I resolve to live wisely (Proverbs 3.5-6; Philippians 3.12-16)

I resolve to live humbly (Romans 12.1-2; Philippians 2.3, 7-11)

I resolve to live repentantly (Philippians 2.1-16; 4-9)

I resolve to live faithfully (Matthew 6.25-34; Philippians 2.19-29)

I resolve to live fearlessly (Proverbs 1.7; 29.25; Philippians 1.27-28)

You don’t need seventy resolutions to follow Jesus. You don’t even need five. According to Paul, you just need one: press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. (cf., Philippians 3.14). Let’s look at the resolution to live wisely.

Living wisely starts by reconciling our past with knowing Christ and the power of His resurrection.

Like Paul, we all have a past. And like Paul, living wisely means grounding our identity in Jesus Christ not in our past. We must fix our confidence on the Son of God who humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even the death of a cross (Philippians 2.8).

Although Paul’s past did much to shape him, he refused to let his past to define him. He secured his identity in Christ by …

Knowing Christ and the power of His resurrection

Gaining Christ by being found righteous through faith Christ

Sharingin the sufferings of Christ becoming like Him in His death

Rather than boast about his solid gold religious resume; or in his outstanding Curriculum Vitae as a superbly religious Jew, Paul says, “I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ.”

Rubbish is a polite translation. In Greek the word is skubala and refers to useless or undesirable material that is subject to disposal. Skubala is the stuff you scrape off the bottom of your shoe after you’ve stepped in it.

Thus to know Christ and the power of His resurrection is to receive the ability to willingly suffer the loss of all things. It is to receive the power to consider them skubala compared to knowing Christ and the power of His resurrection.

It’s the power to walk away from your past by trusting Jesus for your future.

It’s the power to go wherever Jesus leads you and do whatever Jesus commands you.

It’s the power to live wisely in the midst of a culture that lives foolishly.

It’s the power to face the worst life can throw at you and follow Jesus nevertheless.

It’s the power to press on and persevere.

It’s the power to say, “Not my will but Your will be done.”

Living wisely means fixing your eyes on Christ by practicing a long obedience in the same direction.

Paul practiced a wise forgetfulness. He refused to let his past define him. Wise forgetfulness is the fruit of finding our identity in Jesus Christ. It is the glorious freedom that accompanies trusting in the promise of future grace. Wise forgetfulness presses on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.

Paul is straining forward like a runner leaning forward; stretching out to break the tape at the finish line. His goal is to run in such a way as to receive the prize. Paul pressed on for the same reason Jesus pressed on and endured the cross scorning its shame: for the joy that was set before Him. Press on for the joy of hearing the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. Press on for the complete, overwhelming, soul-captivating, heart-motivating, breath-taking moment when God looks at us and says, “Well done you good and faithful servant! Enter into the joy of Your Master.” Press on by resolving to live wisely.

Press on because living wisely means learning the art of recovery.

It’s been said that golf is a game of recovery. An honest golfer who’s hit a bad shot accepts that he’s hit a bad shot. He must play the ball where it lies. He must recover. By the grace of God, life can also be a game of recovery. We can neither change nor undo the events of our past. We must resolve to play the ball where it lies. We can recover by resolving to live wisely. We must resolve to forget what lies behind and strain forward to what lies ahead. We must resolve to press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.

First, a disclaimer. I am not opposed to i-Tech. I own an iPhone, an iPad, and a MacBook. I am not put off by the current myriad of newfangled, whizz-bang gadgets and apps – except perhaps the plethora of Bible apps.

A second disclaimer. I have and do make frequent use of several Bible apps on my phone and laptop. So what is my problem? What ought do I have against such a wonderfully helpful, perfectly convenient, and marvelously handy tool as a Bible app?

Simply this: it lacks the sense of immanence communicated by the feel of holding a leather-bound Bible. There is something visceral about the aroma of paper imprinted with ink. The sterile stare of digitally created words cannot match the feel of paper in my hand as I turn from one page to the next. I like being able to underline meaningful words and verses. I like scribbling personal insights in the margin of my Bible. I smile when I consider the possibility that my children, or perhaps my grandchildren will one day read my Bible and my semi-legible notes. Those notes measure the growth of my faith the way the pencil marks on our kitchen threshold measured the growth of our children.

When I read the Bible on an electronic device the experience is one of rush and hurry, coolness and distance. The experience has no depth. The encounter with the Word leaves my soul as flat as the digitalized, pixelated text on my handheld screen. Paper has texture. It has dimension. It is tactile. I like tactile. It’s the difference between watching a baseball game and the pop of the baseball hitting your glove or the sting of the bat in your hands. It just feels real.

When I pick up my worn, leather-bound translation of the Bible, it’s like I’m visiting with an old friend. Indeed I am. And like a visit with an old friend, there is no rush. There is no hurry. There is a proper pace to the experience. The Bible read on an electronic device may create a connection but it does not create intimacy. How could it when the same device with which I read the Bible is also used to check email, surf the internet or play Spider Solataire (not that there’s anything wrong with that).

In comparison with most forms of i-Technology, the Bible has a single-purpose: to be read. It is in the reading we experience the Presence of The Author. It is by design that Scripture printed on pages made of paper is to be read slowly. References can be sought for without fear of losing battery life. Time can be taken to mull and to meditate, to ponder and to pray. And if necessary to underline a significant passage or write a note in the margin.

When I read the Bible I am definitely old school. However, it is not nostalgia that prompts me to read the Bible on paper. It is the expectation of encountering on every page the God who wrote it. When I read the Bible on a handheld device it is a matter of convenience. When I read the Bible on paper it is a moment for worship. The elaborate nature of that last statement notwithstanding, the point remains. When I read the Bible I am definitely old school. How about you?

To open a Bible that has a frayed front and back cover, its pages grayed, worn and loose, one with margins filled with penciled notes and underlined passages; to open a Bible like that establishes the intimacy reading Scripture is supposed to create.

Here is a faithful friend. Here is the eternally true word from the Word who is both Eternal and True. Here is wisdom this world can neither match nor fathom. Here is Life offered by the One who is the Way, the Truth and the Life. Here is God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit now present, now teaching, now correcting, now encouraging, now exhorting, now comforting, and always, always, always welcoming and inviting us further up and further in!

So my fellow pastors, read your Bible – preferably one with paper pages and be blessed.

Tragedy creates its own kind of pain. It carves deep into the soul – sometimes with the skill of a surgeon’s scalpel, but far too often it seems to slash with the serrated edge of a madman’s inexplicable violence. As anguish alternates between agony and anger, we search for a vocabulary to describe what no thesaurus can provide.

As we absorb the images of shock and dismay etched on the faces of high school students, their parents and teachers, the well-intentioned among us will often rush in to soften hard pain with kind words, sprinkling in passages of Scripture and encouragements to pray and lean on Jesus. Others of us will attempt to justify God, defend Him against accusations of being impotent, unloving, or of not existing at all. In the end the would-be comforters among us can be more like Job’s comforters than we intend. We forget, do we not, that one of the most powerful things ever written about Jesus Christ is this: Jesus wept.

Students of the Bible know this text is from the gospel of John, chapter 11, verse 35. Bible trivia types are quick to point it out as the shortest verse in the English Bible. This makes trivial what is a very profound truth. Jesus wept.

When Jesus came to the home of his deceased friend, Lazarus, he was met by Lazarus’ sisters, Martha and Mary. Martha accosted Jesus reproving him by saying that if he had been at Lazarus’ bedside, her brother, his dear friend would still be alive.

Jesus’ response to Martha is noteworthy for being one of His more famous (and quotable) “I Am” sayings in John’s gospel: “I am the resurrection and the life,” Jesus tells Martha. “Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet he shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?” We might think Jesus’ response more stoic than comforting, more aloof than loving, but then Mary comes out to greet him. She repeats Martha’s reproof. Yet unlike her sister, Mary falls weeping at Jesus’ feet. John tells us that at the sight of Mary weeping Jesus “was deeply moved in his spirit and greatly troubled.” He was indignant and agitated in the face of such intense grief. But Mary is not the cause of his indignation. Jesus is made indignant by the way death breaks the human heart. He is agitated by the pain grief inflicts upon the grieving. This is Jesus saying without words that death is unnatural. Death was never meant to join the circle of life. Death was never God’s intention for his creation. We invented death. And this is what it does.

Jesus then asked to see the place where they had interred his friend. Upon seeing the tomb containing the body of Lazarus, John says simply, “Jesus wept.” He cried real tears the result of genuine grief and sincere sorrow. Indignation and agitation give way to tears of mourning.

And so, if we would comfort those tormented by inexplicable tragedy, if we would tender solace to souls in sorrow, if we would console with those who weep bitter tears, let us learn to weep as well. Let us not be afraid to be deeply moved in our spirit and greatly troubled. There is death and evil in this world. It is as real as it is pernicious. It is as painful as it is incoherent in its action.

And yet, there is also faith, hope, and love. Just as real. Just as pervasive. Just as inexplicable in its capacity to mend, restore, and renew what death and evil try so wickedly to destroy. There is and will be a time to act. Now is not that time. Now is the time to weep, to mourn, to grieve. Yet let us weep and mourn and grieve as those with hope that as Jesus wept, then went on to raise Lazarus from the dead so, too, he will raise new life out of the tragic death of so many.

I did not know it at the time, but I would soon learn what Solomon meant when he wrote, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life,”—Proverbs 13.12.

Hope deferred makes us heartsick when what we are waiting for takes longer than we had prepared to wait for it. Hope deferred makes time crawl. When time crawls today cannot be over too quickly and tomorrow cannot get here soon enough. To paraphrase C.S. Lewis, hope deferred means it is always Winter but never Christmas. Hope deferred can be dangerous because the longer we wait, the greater the temptation to doubt God’s sovereignty and faithfulness.

Even so, not everything we hope for is necessarily good for us. Solomon’s words are true in a general sense, but they are not necessarily true in an absolute sense. Sometimes God defers our hope in the knowledge that the longer we wait the more time we will devote to thinking and praying about what we are hoping for.

I have also learned there is a difference between waiting and waiting in hope–even hope that is deferred. Hope deferred may make the heart sick, but rather than cause me to question God’s sovereignty and faithfulness, heartsickness is cause to seek God more earnestly for patience and lean on Him heavily in faith.

Among the treasured possessions of my childhood, none was as valuable to me as that silly bowl and spoon. And I suppose the thing that increased its value was the time I waited for it to arrive. An old gospel song says, “God may not come at the right time, but He’s right on time when He comes.”

There were some present at that very time who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. And he answered them, “Do you think that these Galileans were worse sinners than all the other Galileans, because they suffered in this way? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all likewise perish. Or those eighteen on whom the tower in Siloam fell and killed them: do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others who lived in Jerusalem? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all likewise perish.

The Gospel of Luke 13.1-15

Since September our nation, including Puerto Rico, has weathered three hurricanes (Harvey, Irene, and Maria) each wreaking havoc with high winds, floods, and mud slides. Hundreds of thousands are homeless, without electricity, food, medicine, and water. Relief efforts are ongoing and it will likely be months, perhaps years before there is full recovery.

We have barely begun to respond to the devastation caused by these natural disasters, only to be jolted by the news coming out of Las Vegas. On Sunday, October 1, Stephen Paddock aimed a rifle from the 32nd floor of his hotel room and fired at a crowd of 22,000 people as they attended an outdoor music concert. In a barrage lasting nine minutes Paddock killed 58 people. An additional 500 and more were wounded and/or injured. Stephen Paddock is now among the dead. Sadly, his death cannot erase the five-hundred and forty seconds of cruel, calculated, and cold-hearted evil he inflicted. There is an evil worse than natural catastrophe. There is an evil so real, so ugly, and so heartless we are left breathless in its aftermath.

Adjectives prove insufficient to describe such evil. Simply put: evil is real. Evil is ugly. Evil is vile and despicable. There are evil people in this world: Stephen Paddock is one of them. We do not know his heart. We can only judge his actions. And his actions merit this judgment: evil. Evil people are not evil because of their environment, their social status, education, or income. Evil has no gender bias. Evil is not attached to race, ethnicity, or nationality. Evil is an equal-opportunity employer. Evil exists because, as the prophet Jeremiah reminds us, “the (human) heart is deceitful above all things and desperately sick; who can understand it?” Evil exists because worship of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob does not.

As devastating and life-wrecking as can be a hurricane, flood, or earthquake, we tend not to be affected by such things on a visceral level. The bowels of our mercy tend not to be stirred by a Category 5 hurricane. A hurricane does not post to a Facebook page. A flood does not have an Instagram account. An earthquake espouses no ideology on Twitter, and no vengeance drives its destructive power. Natural disasters possess no native intelligence. Their paths do not bear the mark of premeditation. Their destruction is done without malice. They simply happen and we must deal with the flotsam and jetsam left by their mayhem.

What happened in Las Vegas is not the result of a natural disaster. Nor was it a natural disaster that took the lives of those in Orlando. No earthquake caused the shooting deaths in San Bernandino. No tornado killed 20 school children in Connecticut. No gale force winds took the lives of students at Virginia Tech. The list of evil acts is as long as recorded human history: Oklahoma City, the Unabomber, 9/11. Sadly, the list of evil acts will likely grow longer not because laws are insufficient to prevent it, but simply because “the (human) heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick.” Laws, even God’s Law cannot change the human heart. Only the Spirit of God can do that.

So then, what to do? Give up? Never! The truth is there is no easy way through this. Evil hurts and the pain and grief it metes out is real. If the first step toward healing requires acknowledging reality, then perhaps the first step toward healing is to acknowledge the reality of evil and the existence of evil people. The next step is to lament the pain evil causes. Lamentation is a normal response to grievous pain caused by grievous evil. Rather than a sign of weakness, lamentation is an indication of our humanity.

To lament is to grieve. And grief in the wake of evil is not only normal, but necessary. To lament is to mourn. It is to weep. As Jesus wept at the tomb of His friend Lazarus, so let us weep with those so tragically and personally damaged by the evil act of an evil man. To lament is to let the pain pour forth. In time, the agony of unspeakable tragedy will exhaust itself in attempting to siphon dry the wellspring of our hope. It will fail because we have access to an inexhaustible wellspring of living water. We know the One who is Hope incarnate. Let us pray for those who weep. Pray they will find Him who is the Living Water.

In Luke 13.1-5, Jesus reminds us that when evil happens rather than explain why or attempt to defend God, we would be wise to consider how short life is compared to eternity. Life is fragile. If life is fragile then we are fragile. If we are fragile then death is real. And if death is real, then our struggle is not with “flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places,” (Ephesians 6.12). And if our struggle is “against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places,” then “the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds,” (2 Corinthians 10.4).

Those who do not believe the Gospel scoff at any offer of condolence which includes the thoughts and prayers of Christ-minded people. How would they prefer we comfort those who mourn? Shall we offer the victims’ families a petition to sign? How shall we help the wounded recover? Will the promise of stricter legislation heal their physical and emotional wounds? Would it not be more helpful simply to weep with those who weep? Would it not be more comforting simply to sit with them in silence and pray?

Fools mock at the comfort promised by the Gospel. Let them mock. Let them scorn those who offer thoughts and prayers. Scorn will not bring back the dead. Sarcasm will not stop the spread of evil. Mockery never stopped a bullet. Mockery never defused a bomb. Derision never deterred a killer. Jesus commanded us to “bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you,” (Luke 6.28). Bless those who scorn our prayers for the victims and families. Pray for them. They do not know what they do. Pray for the families of the deceased. Pray for the wounded. Pray for the helpers. Pray! Pray! Pray! And as God opens doors to offer tangible help take full advantage of such opportunities.

A mentor once told me, “Faith is what’s left after pain has erased all the platitudes.” Platitudes will not help us work through this, or any other tragedy. Yes. “For those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose,” (Romans 8.28). Yes. What others intend for evil God can use to accomplish good (cf., Genesis 50.20). However, neither of these truths are painless in the application or in the experience of those whom God has shepherded through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. The apostle Paul, who joyfully proclaimed “all things work together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose,” suffered countless beatings, was thrice shipwrecked and beaten with rods, stoned, robbed, endured privation, and more. And before Joseph told his brothers, “you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good,” he was betrayed by them, thrown into a well. They later sold him into slavery, eventually landing him in Egypt where he was wrongly accused of sexual assault, wrongfully imprisoned, spending years in jail. God does bring good out of tragedy, but that does not mean we make light of the tragedy from which the good eventually springs forth.

Amid the chaotic tragedy of Sunday’s shooting in Las Vegas stories emerged of heroism, bravery, selflessness, and compassion. Such acts shine as rays of hope in the midst of evil’s darkness. Evil is real. Yet so is truth. So is love. So is faith and hope. Evil exists because worship of the Almighty does not. Let us then pray that in the midst of this present darkness, our nation might turn to the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob and find life, hope, faith, and love.

And he went throughout all Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the gospel of the kingdom and healing every disease and every affliction among the people. So his fame spread throughout all Syria, and they brought him all the sick, those afflicted with various diseases and pains, those oppressed by demons, those having seizures, and paralytics, and he healed them. And great crowds followed him from Galilee and the Decapolis, and from Jerusalem and Judea, and from beyond the Jordan.

Seeing the crowds, he went up on the mountain, and when he sat down, his disciples came to him. – Matthew 4.23-5.1

As Jesus’ fame spread, large numbers of people flocked to Him. And they had needs. He healed the sick, those afflicted with various diseases and pains, those oppressed by demons, epileptics, and paralytics. Miracles will always attract a crowd. However, the core of Jesus’ ministry is teaching and preaching. The miracles confirm Jesus’ authority as a teacher and preacher. The miracles validate His claim that the kingdom of heaven is at hand.

If someone were to ask Jesus: What evidence can you give us that the kingdom of heaven is at hand? Or, What does the presence of the kingdom of heaven look like? He would point to the miracles He performed. In fact, someone did ask Him that. In Matthew 11, messengers from Jesus’ cousin, John the Baptizing Prophet, come to Him and ask, “Are You the One who is to come, or shall we look for another?” Listen to how Jesus answered them:

Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, and the lame walk, lepers are cleaned and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised up, and the poor have good news preached to them.

According to Jesus, the presence of the kingdom of heaven looks like blind people being made to see, lame people gaining the ability to walk, lepers being healed, the deaf hearing, and the dead being. However, Jesus saves the most important piece of evidence for the end: “and the poor have good news preached to them.” Miracles will attract a crowd, but they do not lead people to repentance. Miracles do not change hearts. You want proof? Read Exodus. Pharaoh saw plenty of miracles. He didn’t repent. Want more proof? The first generation of those delivered from slavery in Egypt saw plenty of miracles -. Yet none of them entered the Promised Land. Miracles are evidence of the kingdom of God. They confirm the truth of what is being said, but miracles do not save people from their sins.

Only Jesus saves.

Only the Holy Spirit changes hearts.

Only the Holy Spirit opens hearts to hear the gospel.

Only the Holy Spirit leads us to repent—from rebellion against God to trust/obedience in God.

How? Through the teaching and preaching of the Lord Jesus Christ. Miracles will attract a crowd of followers. But Jesus did not come to attract followers. Jesus came to make disciples. And the Sermon on the Mount is designed to separate followers from disciples. All disciples are followers. Not all followers are disciples. Disciples follow Jesus wherever He leads them, and wherever He sends them. Disciples do whatever Jesus tells them. Followers tend to pick and choose the times and circumstances of their loyalty.

This might explain why in Matthew 3.11, 12, John the Baptizing Prophet describes Jesus’ ministry in very frank and frightening terms: “I baptize you with water for repentance, but He who is coming after me is mightier than I, whose sandals I am not worthy to carry. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire. His winnowing fork is in His hand, and He will clear His threshing floor and gather His wheat into the barn, but the chaff He will burn with unquenchable fire.” The winnowing fork Jesus uses to clear His threshing floor and gather His wheat into the barn is the teaching and preaching of the gospel.

Miracles will draw people to the light like moths to a flame. But only those who trust in Jesus will live, work, play, die, and be saved in, by, and through the light. Jesus came to make disciples not attract a following.

The Sermon on the Mount has two audiences. The first audience is the disciples. The second audience is the great crowd that followed Jesus wherever He went. When Jesus sat down to preach, the Holy Spirit used His words like a winnowing fork. The Sermon on Mount separates those who are drawn to Jesus by His teaching and preaching, from those who follow Him just to see Him perform another miracle. The kingdom of heaven is open to those who worship Jesus in spirit and in truth.

The big idea of the Sermon on the Mount is not, “Keep these rules and you will enter the kingdom of heaven.” On the contrary, the big idea is, “Now that the kingdom of heaven has arrived this is how disciples of Jesus must live.” Not everyone who calls Jesus Lord will enter the kingdom of heaven. Only those who are poor in spirit (5.3), obedient (7.21), and surpassingly righteous (5.20).

Jesus came to make disciples not gather followers. The Sermon on the Mount separates disciples from mere followers. The Sermon on the Mount humbles us. It is meant to drive us to seek the Spirit’s help to practice what Jesus preaches. Faith comes by hearing and hearing by the word of Christ – the Gospel which is the good news summed up as follows: the time is fulfilled, the kingdom of heaven is at hand, it’s time to repent and put our trust in Jesus.

“Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” ~ Matthew 6.31-33

Jesus’ words at the end of Matthew 6 gain added strength when combined with His words at the beginning of the chapter. When anxiety tempts us to fear the future, Jesus tells that we need not be anxious about the future is because our Father who is in secret sees us when we give, when we pray, when we forgive and when we fast. He knows what we need before we ask, and promises to provide for us as we trust Him.

And how do we trust Him? By doing what Jesus says: seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness.

The command, “seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness” ends with a promise of future grace: “and all these things will be added to you.” A short list of “all these things” is found in the verse which precede it. There is a sense in which anxiety – by driving us to worry ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ – makes us less human. Anxiety can make us forget we were created in the image of God.

In truth, we are created for than food and drink and clothing. Jesus reminds us we are created to reflect the glory of God by carrying out the mission of God. Food, and drink, and clothing, are important. Yet Jesus reminds us that life is more than what we eat and drink and put on our bodies. Anxiety about such things distracts us from our true mission.

Jesus commands us to aim at heaven because if we aim at heaven, He promises we’ll get earth thrown in. If we aim at earth, we’ll get neither. Jesus commands us to conquer anxiety by pressing on to fulfill a desire this world cannot fulfill. In contrast with the Gentiles who scurry hither and yon—like squirrels seeking last year’s acorns, Christians embark upon the peace-producing, soul-satisfying, heart-assuring, and mind-engaging quest of proclaiming the supremacy of Christ above all things. Our great calling is the Great Commission.

We conquer anxiety by taking an active role in the mission of God. We defang worry by doing what God requires. We overcome excessive concern about the future by doing what God requires. We do what God requires by practicing what Jesus preaches. We practice what Jesus preaches by doing two things: loving God with all our heart, mind, soul, and strength and loving our neighbor as ourselves. When we love God with everything we have, we will seek first His kingdom. We will promote Him not ourselves. The Holy Spirit will change how we think, live, and treat others. He will help us find ways to include Him in every thought, insert Him in every conversation, and involve Him in every activity. He will open our eyes to the reality of God’s presence in our home, our church, our work, and our relationships. He will affect positively how and why we worship and work, relate to our parents and siblings, love our spouse, and treat our fellow Christians and co-workers. When we love our neighbor as ourselves, we will seek the righteousness of God. We will do what God requires. We will practice what Jesus preaches. The Spirit will open our eyes to the fact that the Great Commission is both local and global in scope.

To seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness is to serve God and God alone. To be preoccupied with excessive concern over ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ while serving God is serving two masters; something Jesus says no one can do. Serve God and He will add all these things to you. Let us seek the kingdom of God by loving Him more than food and drink and clothing. Let us seek His righteousness by sharing the gospel with our neighbor.

Let us conquer anxiety by faith in future grace.* Let us trust Him to provide our needs in the future.

You think about that.

[*To live by faith in future grace means exercising a robust trust in God’s promises to reward those who trust in Jesus by practicing what preaches. The future of future grace refers to God’s promises flowing into your life from the future with the result being that for as long as we live, our trust in God’s promise is revealed by treasuring up treasures in heaven. The grace of future grace refers both to God’s unearned and undeserved favor, as well as His power at work in our lives to make good things happen in us and for us.]